The Governor

Eric knew the governor had a dirty habit. He leaned on Devon with cash in hand, offered her a quick payout if she’d ring him the next time the big man showed up for more than a rub-down. Devon took the money, told him she’d think about it. Week later the governor strolled in and called specifically for her. Told her to lock the door. Devon dropped straight to her knees, opened wide, swallowed him whole, wet slurps filling the little room. When he was throbbing she slapped his meat between her tits, worked her cleavage until his head pushed out to meet her tongue. Still hungry, she slid onto his lap, rubbed her wet slit along his length before guiding him inside. They fucked filthy on that table—hard, fast, skin slapping, Devon riding like she’d waited for this all month. He groaned and pumped his load deep. After he left she checked her phone. Message to Eric never got sent. She wiped her mouth, smiled, and kept the rest of the cash for herself.